


Into the Mirror

by Skeren



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Human Experimentation, Identity Issues, Loyalty, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-23 01:38:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6100592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skeren/pseuds/Skeren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zack slipped in a way he never did in canon, and in the process, everything removed itself a firm step to the right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into the Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> Written September 2006.

**Desire**

_In regards to your services on the field, I feel I must recommend_

He crossed out the line, scribbled on the paper against his knee hastily while there was a lull in the fighting around them. Why was this difficult? 

_I have found while abroad with_

Again, he crossed it out, fingers curling tightly around the pen. 

"Trouble kid?"

He lifted his gaze to the officer on a soft sigh and shoved the silver strands out of his eyes. "No."

"Well, it looks to me like you're having some." He reached and gently tugged the paper out of his hand, studying the mess of crossed out false starts. "Who is this about, and what is it about?"

He stared up at him for a long moment before sighing and turning to stare out around the encampment. "I would like someone to be under my command."

"Yeah? Who?"

He flicked his eyes over to one of the newer people to the field before his gaze darted back to the senior officer. "No one important."

"Sure kid, you keep telling yourself that." Shaking his head, the man handed back the paper and moved on to whatever task it was that he'd been distracted from.

* * *

**Salacious**

He wasn't leering. He was giving due appreciation. Yes. Appreciation. And now that he'd been caught he would just appreciate himself right to the door. Maybe. Was that a glare or a smile? It was a little hard to tell.

"What are you doing?"

"Er."

"Yes, that's very helpful." Shaking his head, the man turned back to his fighting forms. "Either pick up a weapon and practice with me or leave."

"What?" That hadn't been near the reaction he'd expected. 

"You heard me."

Well, if nobody ever sparred with him… then it was about time someone started. "Yes, sir."

* * *

**Emasculate**

He was sure he pissed the doctors off this time. He was so sure, in fact, that he'd adore a hiding place. Not, well, that it would do any good or anything. This was his day for those damn shots, and it wasn't really his fault he'd heard the rumor that Mako turned people sterile recently was it? Not that that was all bad, it made things a whole heck of a lot safer with his girlfriend and all, but he really liked his balls to stay attached and working the right way.

He'd just ignore that whole bit about being a First Class SOLDIER already. Minor detail! Just a minor detail.

He just wanted to come out of the appointment still a man, really, was that too much to ask?

* * *

**Subtle**

It had always been hard to tell when Seph was laughing with him, at him, or, in most cases, if he was even laughing at all. Only once had he gotten more than a small smile out of him. At first, he had thought it was because the man had no sense of humor. Then, he'd realized that the man just didn't have _his_ sense of humor. Whether that was an improvement or not had taken yet more care and dedicated study to puzzle out.

He decided, in the end, that it was neither. The man had a tendency to laugh at rather morbid things, nothing nice or lighthearted, always dark and dour, sour and chilly.

He'd really hate to be that man. But he'd try to teach him how to laugh for real more than willingly.

* * *

**Despair**

He was horrible at this. "Seph, no really, it's fine-"

"No." It was a soft word, firm for the lack of emotion and sheer authority that was in it. "In this instance, you were not wrong."

He didn't know what to say to that. He'd never expected to be in this position. "But-"

There was a solitary shake of the taller man's head in answer, and he turned to meet his eyes. "You asked. I can tell you. Towards the beginning, Wutai wasn't the same country it is now you see. They once had a different kind of pride."

Unable to say anything without disrespecting the gift he was offering, Zack fell silent and just listened to the silver haired man tell him those things about the war that he'd never understood.

* * *

**Delight**

"Za~ack! Get it away from me!"

"What? Spike, c'mon, she won't hurt you!" 

"What's she doing?" He was trying not to laugh at the blond, he really was, but it was so _hard_ not to. He never thought that the boy would be skittish of a chocobo. He _knew_ he was a country boy too. Shouldn't he be a bit more familiar than that?

"You don't know?"

"I hope I'm wrong."

He repressed another snicker at the look the bird was getting. "Okay, what to you think she's doing?"

"…Flirting."

"And you'd be right!" When the giant bird once again tried to groom Cloud's hair, he couldn't help it, he burst into laughter. 

"Zack!! It's not _funny_!!" He was trying to both fend off the bird and not _of_ fend it. It didn't seem to be going so well. 

"Well, actually…"

"No!"

"Fine, fine." He gathered himself and got out some greens, waving them at the bird to try and distract her from her 'mate'. "Here girl, look what I got for you. He's really not your type, too skinny."

"I want to hurt you so bad right now."

"Yeah, well, right now I'm busy. You can flail at me when we put your girlfriend back in the stable. Unless you want her attention back?" 

The glare that earned him just made him grin. Days like this were just perfect.

* * *

**Coffee**

It wasn't hard to make a decent pot of coffee. He knew it wasn't. How someone as bright as the General managed to ruin it time and time again, he couldn't honestly say. He puzzled over this, he set out to find out what the man was doing wrong.

The first part, he realized, was that the man didn't drink coffee at all. He drank tea. It had been a realization that came in an epiphany, or rather the strategic use of a closet and observing his superior officer when the man went about his morning ritual. While this had not been sufficiently revealing, snatching his mug for a nice long drink before Seph could do so had firmly solved the question of what he'd actually been doing. 

He wasn't sure if he should be happy or not that he'd been laughed at when it set off a coughing fit.

* * *

**Traffic**

"Riding on my bicycle, riding on my bi~ike." He tried not to smile as the taller man near him twitched, giving him an inscrutable look. _Yes, I'm not tone deaf. I can't, however, sing. Well, I can, but it sounds just horrible._

When he opened his mouth to continue, a bright grin on his face, he found a gloved hand pressing against his lips lightly. "Zack, we are not taking a motorcycle at this time. Please, your singing is most uncomfortable to listen to."

Well, if it got the man to touch him… He saluted, grinning even as the touch was lifted away. 

He'd just sing about something else once they were in traffic. Like, oh, say, 'the wheels on the bus go round and round'?

* * *

**Socratic**

There were always philosophers who were sure they knew everything. It was just the way things were. The more religious you were, the smarter you were, then the more you thought you ruled the world. Simple. He'd seen it all the time. On the other hand, people who were _really_ smart didn't try to go that far out there. 

Unfortunately. 

No, instead they had pet projects like he currently was and that sucked. That sucked really big ones and he was pretty damn sure his jaw would ache if it was anything but metaphysical. No, wait. It did ache. 

He was grinding his teeth and trying really hard to keep his grin from turning into a snarl.

* * *

**Ethereal**

He knew _knew_ with every fiber of his being that he couldn't be seeing what he thought he was. There was no way that his eyes were flickering into that shape. It made him look not real; it made him look like someone he wasn't. He'd been doing his best, trying to keep them from warping Spike, but had he been paying attention to the wrong things?

His head hurt more and more these days, whispering sensations at the edges of his perception, randomly catching himself walking just a little more _that_ way. It wasn't quite like it was honestly happening. Ethereal, unearthly… like someone dead and gone.

He didn't know what was happening, but it was terrifying, and he wasn't easily frightened.

* * *

**Context**

It was all a matter of seeing things in the view they were presented. Turning over a battle in his head, he saw all the holes and flaws, all the things he'd missed when he was _him_ instead of as he now was. He had then been unaware of the hate and the pain, the mistrust and the ill fortune. The ignorance had been grievous and persecuting, and he had failed. He knew they weren't finished with him, but just knowing a few more details like this…

He'd been hasty, and looking at it now, he struck first in that last battle between them. He'd left openings without realizing it where the other man could have taken him down and had instead sought to incapacitate, and ultimately, he'd been careless of his own life.

And now that life was being liberally stripped away, one step at a time, because he'd taken something out of context. It had been a horrible, terrible thing… but misunderstood just the same.

He let the scientists do as they wished. As long as they stayed away from Cloud it might be alright.

* * *

**Oedipus**

It was one of the ways that the scientists and the voices both couldn't win. As much as the other side of his mind argued and pressed, there could be no yield on this topic. He had a mother. She existed, she was alive, and she couldn't talk to him in his head. He was going to be stubborn and not stop believing in that because the voice didn't sound like her. He didn't really want it to either. 

That would mean that she'd known about this, and that she approved, and he didn't like that idea. Neither side wanted to think that their mother would want them to hurt so very much, so even though the other side would press, it would always concede this point. 

It was better if she just didn't know.

* * *

**Dream**

When he was asleep, it was so different from when he was awake. When he was awake, everything twisted in his head, smoothly working together for days before a simple question would make things clash and ache inside both his mind and heart. During the day it was a battle inside him, no truce, no surcease, no ground given or taken in a tug of war that wasn't a war at all. 

But when he slept it wasn't like that. When he slept it was calm, quiet, the reflection of the battling halves at rest. There were apologies, soft and gentle, quiet and false. They weren't sincere, and they didn't make sense. It was no good to apologize to yourself. It was no good to fight with something that was little more than a phantom in your own mind.

He knew that, and he still took comfort in those gentle dreams. As long as he remembered them, the burning mako brightness of being awake just wasn't so hard.

In time, maybe enough dreams would stop the daylight battles.

* * *

**Pet**

There were times, there were always times when the things in his head clashed and fought, making him close his eyes and want to scream because of the conflicts of sense and sensation, logic and emotion. They were so much more often than he wanted them to be, and he almost always let it go to the stronger side. He knew that wasn't where he'd started, but logic was easier than feeling. Sensation had no place if one couldn't comprehend what was going on. 

The one thing both sides seemed to never argue was this. Time out of the cages, fingers running through soft blond spikes and meeting with blue. The wry smile didn't fit, but it did. At least until this last.

One side had been here before, one side had only known of it. Both agreed that they did not want to be here again. For once feeling won out, and emotion was used.

The pet was his, the blond supposed to be under his protection. He'd been failing, and now that he had an opportunity to fix it, he would. He didn't tolerate abuses to others the way he would tolerate abuses to himself.

Especially not when he loved them.

* * *

**Tangible**

He could almost taste the scent of the green around them, the rain heavy in the air as he stared up at the sky with glowing, feline violet eyes. Their freedom hung touchable in the air, bright and unmistakable, and he almost smiled. Almost. 

Cloud had no such qualms, a wide grin crossing his face as the first raindrops started to fall. He had the whispering sensation that he'd smiled like that once, at a point that wasn't quite clear anymore, but that wasn't important in the here and now. 

No, in the here and how Cloud was out of that place, project no more. It was a heavy, good feeling. Even if they took _him_ back, he wouldn't care as long as they left the blond out of it. 

He closed his eyes and smiled, a faint expression. He didn't matter in the scheme of things, but he'd made that choice on his own.

* * *

**Freedoms**

He'd forgotten what a good candy tasted like. A small, protective flare of anger curled in his chest at the thought, and he really didn't understand why. Cloud was with him, calm and smiling, for the moment at least, by his side. Why should the realization that he couldn't quite remember what candy tasted like bother him?

There was a whisper, a brush that said that it wasn't forgetting, and he knew that was wrong. The hot fire turned into a cold chill in his chest, and he wondered what freedoms that other part hadn't ever known. 

What things was he forgetting that would have been so dearly important to that side of him?

* * *

**Scent**

Sharp and green, he couldn't help a small smile at the familiarity, the sensation encompassing and almost painful. The eyes were the same as the scent, darting from one to the other, there and knowing, like the planet herself.

She moved forward, hand moving before stopping short, and he could see the ache in her eyes. He knew this scent, and he knew that face.

He wanted to never see that expression again, but he knew, deep in his heart, that it would never ever be the same as fragmented memories tried to offer.

His words were a quiet murmur, smile faint and sad. "We're home."

* * *

**Prolific**

The rumors were everywhere. Here, there, whispers of a pair of renegades having taken this ship or that car. They never seemed to stay in one place long enough to quite be noticed, and the military, the hunters, were starting to get fed up with overzealous rumors. It had been years, and they really didn't want to be caught on this assignment for the rest of their lives.

The pay was lousy, the sleep schedule was horrible, and none of them ever got anywhere.

It was like a vacation from hell, and it really wasn't funny that one of the people in their squad seemed to love this drawn out mess of a chase.

The freak.

* * *

_Divinity_

Staring up into green eyes was horribly jarring. Something inside him wrenched and twisted, and it was clear that the other man knew. He walked forward, green staying focused intently on violet, in spite of the blue glaring around the figure he was watching. 

"You still know me."

The reply was immediate, and his voice was horribly husky. He wanted to close his eyes, to make that wrenching sense of vertigo to go away, but he found he couldn't. "I can't."

"No?" He took another step towards them. 

It was just a tight grip on the blond that kept them both still, himself from running, the blond from possibly attacking. They could both feel it. "I don't want to."

"I know." Then he reached forward, and the wrenching feeling stopped, fading into stillness with the sensation of warm, leather-clad fingers. 

It was like being touched by a god.

* * *

**Thoughts**

People never quite realized the sanctity that their minds had until someone violated it. It was really too easy to say that people just plain didn't appreciate anything until it was gone in fact. 

Like privacy. It was really weird to go from having your own room to living in a military barrack where you never get an instant to yourself. You go from one, to one of many that might just be the provider of some really bad jokes. Jacking off turns into a whole new experience, especially when you have to face the idea of people listening in on you. Nothing like a little performance anxiety to deter a teenager from doing his stuff. Well, sometimes anyway. After a while you get used to it. Maybe.

Another thing that people never seemed to properly appreciate was hugging. Two people more touch starved in his life he'd never seen, and it all came down to hair ruffles and touches on the shoulders that almost hurt to do because they just didn't _get_ why he kept doing it. He wanted to hug, but he didn't want either of them to stop talking to him, one because he fled over him working too fast, and the other because he set off his stab now, ask later instincts. 

Freedom was one of the things that he hadn't ever quite gotten a handle on. Sure, he had a lot, but the labs made it more than glaringly obvious what he'd been stupid enough to only appreciate a little bit. Yeah, maybe he appreciated it a hell of allot more than most people, but when it came right down to it, he knew that he hadn't done enough. How could _anything_ ever be enough to make up for having your very personality so infringed like that?

And then, after all the pain and agony, was a feather-light contact over his mind, bright and beautiful, and he lost something that hurt so much more to forget than anything else had to know.

* * *

**Touch**

He liked having his hair petted. It calmed his wild thoughts and gave him something nice and gentle to focus on. It didn't happen often, and usually the roil of pain and ache in his head led to him just focusing on quelling the conflicting, yet disturbingly similar, natures that resided in his mind. 

He'd worked out since seeing him what had happened, but just seeing him, being touched by him, didn't make the parts _of_ him, that were forever lodged in his very being, go away.

They'd been put there, they'd been nailed in place, then a few nice bolts had been used to melt them into the cracks. He was inside of him in every way possible on some occasions. And yet, all it took to not need to think about it was a touch on his hair, fingers on his cheek, a stroke down his spine. 

He was glad the two sides seemed to have the same opinion about touch.

* * *

_Perception_

The clarity of everything almost hurt at times. The pain, the yawning aching mass that was a thread between the three of them was always there. First was the leader, the original, the undivided. The empty and chilled. Then there was the battling, the follower. The protector and overshadowed. The last was the confused. The lost and sum of the good that had been drained out of the pain. One to the next, to the last, and they weren't unaware. They knew, or ignored, by turns.

But it wasn't bad. From an outsider perception would be the pain. The surface would yield blood and iron control. But under the surface, yes, under the surface they were something else, and at those times the ache was good.

Pain meant that you weren't dead, and he held that thought near to his heart.

* * *

**Wings**

He had wings. Angel wings. Not the beautiful, approachable guardians of some stories, but the vicious warriors that went unheralded in their true forms. 

Pale feathers. He felt a cold chill as he ran a finger over one of the otherly appendages while the man slept. They came and went more often these days, and the first time had startled them all. 

He watched the feathers and new muscles blend back into the skin without waking their owner. 

Beautiful and terrible as it was, he realized he would hate that form.

* * *

**Centrifuge**

It hurt. The physical pain was nothing. No, it hurt that he realized he had to do this at all. He didn't want to, didn't want to. There was an odd silence from the other side, chill and aware, part of him and separate, and it felt as though he was being shredded inside. 

He couldn't let the world be used like that. He'd already taken away someone under his protection, though admittedly not the one now most important to him. He'd done something that meant he had no choice.

The world was flying apart from the inside out, and he let the calm of the other side shut it all down. He'd let himself realize what he'd done after. His other protected was about to fall, and he couldn't stop it. 

But oh how he could try to prevent every other fated disaster.

* * *

**Death**

"I'm sorry."

It wasn't a phrase that could make up for anything, no pain or loss, not really. It was a phrase used by perfect strangers in a time of mourning. He wasn't going to. He had no desire to, but he said it anyway; head bowed as he stared at the fallen form with tears sliding down his face.

"I'm sorry Seph, so, so sorry." 

He'd done it. He'd done a good thing. A good thing. 

He still fell to his knees. They were both gone, and the only thing he did with the bright orbs of magic in his bracelet was pluck out the Final Attack materia and let it roll uselessly away from the Life it had been linked to. He'd bleed, but he wouldn't make sure he lived.


End file.
